Blank Pages
by Emeraldd Star
Summary: Two years afer he lost his memory, Gilderoy Lockhart is starting to get back on his feet. A tale of mystery, romance, and adventure.


Blank Pages

Emeraldd Star

Chapter One

"Charming Me a Memory"

_Disclaimer- Gilderoy Lockhart and the world in which he lives belong to JK Rowling, and WB. I'm merely playing with it until she gets out book five._

_Warning- you are about to read a fic about the singularly most annoying wizard JKR has created. You are also about to read a very silly fic about this annoying man. Beware. _

"In you go dear."

Alumina Jennings smiled encouragingly up at him. Flashing her a nervous grin back, the man stepped onto the elaborately carved steps and looked at the door before him. It was a large door, made out of a pinkish wood, and worked intricate designs. He gave an anxious look back at where Alumina stood; she was picking at an invisible speck on her starched white robes. She looked up and gave him an encouraging nod.  He gulped and pushed open the door, leading him into a whole new world. 

His first impression of the room was surprise. On the other side of the door there was bright paint. There large turquoise pillows sitting on brilliant purple couches standing our almost violently! There were pictures of a certain man on the walls. The man in the picture was smiling, grinning, winking and waving at him. He gave them a nervous smile and waved back at the pictures. Behind him he heard Alumina closing the door with a soft THUD and a _click_. 

He walked up to one of the large couches, and traced his finger along it. The cloth was so soft! He pushed down on one of the cushions and instantly knew that the sofa would most definitely be comfortable. He sat down, and his prediction was proved true. Then he stood up and decided to explore another room.

There were three doors on the far wall. The first was a sort of red gauzy curtain hanging in a doorframe. The second was an interesting animal print, and the third seemed to be made of a shiny blue material. He decided to go with the blue door, it was the most mundane of the three, even if it was gleaming cheerfully. Now filled with purpose, he strode across the room to the blue door. Stopping in front of it, he braced himself for what was to come. Then he gently turned the doorknob, which was glinting and glittering like mad, and he looked into the newest room.

The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. It seemed to be made of a green glass with flecks of shiny stuff in it. Under the glass was a sort of a large metal half covering. It was made of wires intertwined together and seemed to be composed of a lot of twirls and decorative birds. There were many openings in it so that the lovely green tinged sunlight was allowed to shine though, and the overall effect was surprisingly beautiful.   

The floor was made of a nice light colored wood and had a few mosaic tiles in the corners, each spelling out a large cursive L. However, almost more impressive than the ceiling were the walls! On each bright spring green wall hung millions of pairs of robes! Color, size, and the amount of extra frills and embroidery sewn into them seemed to be how they were organized. It was very impressive. In one of the corners, near a window (with the shade drawn) was as large changing area, and he could see a large clothes rack near it. 

Walking over to a rack that housed red robes, he gently fingered a pair. They were cherry red satin, with tiny winking silver stars on the hem and collar. Giving the first genuine smile since he had entered this strange land, he walked over to the changing area and began to pull off his plain white robes. He pulled on the red pair he had chosen and grinned at his reflection in the mirror. His reflection gave him thumbs up, and winking at himself, he put a spring in his step and set off for the next doorway. 

This time, feeling dangerous, he pulled aside the gauzy curtain with a flourish, and stopped dead in his jaunty tracks. His mouth hung open and his jaw worked. He stood that way for several minutes, taking in his surroundings. Eventually he pulled his lips into a wide knowing grin.

In the far corner of the room was a gigantic heart shaped bed. The sheets and blankets seemed to be made of a deep scarlet silk. As well as about twenty pillows lining the two humps of the heart. Next to the bed was a small nightstand with aging copies of 'Witch Weekly' sitting upon it.  Also there was a book called 'Poetry For the Sensitive Wizard," which upon further investigation turned out to be "101 Charms for Wooing the Perfect Witch," under a different cover.

Near an oval shaped picture window, sat a large desk. It was ornate with highly polished wood, and some guilding over the legs and feet. On it were a large bottle of perfume and a huge pile of pink stationary. A ceramic container held a wide variety of exotic bird quills. 

The floor was a red shag carpet, and the walls were painted a lovely shade of pink. The ceiling was enchanted to have twinkling stars, in some very interesting constellations, most of which would be embarrassed to be in the real sky. 

He walked over to the bed and flopped down upon it. The mattress jiggled, it must be a waterbed. Squirming into a more comfortable position on one of the pillows he closed his eyes for a brief moment. He liked it here, but did he belong?

He opened his eyes and shook his head; his hair shook in all directions as well. He rubbed a lock between his thumb and his forefinger, his hair was silky, and he liked it. With a dazed smile on his face, he wandered out of the room and a moment later through the animal print door. All the while thinking about his hair, and how the nurse outside would have said he was in one of his 'confused' moods. 

When he finally looked up from the strand of hair he had plucked, he was once again amazed. As it turned out, he had wandered into a poolroom of some sort. First off, the walls, ceiling, floor; everything was made out of thousands of tiny mosaic tiles! All the tiles in various shades of lilac. In the middle of this spacious room was a large pool, which, once given a closer look, had about fifty golden taps all along the sloping purple edge. Each had a tiny amethyst button in it, all of the amethysts different shapes. He stood in this beautiful lilac room, slowly twirling about, and then he noticed something in a corner of the room he hadn't noticed before. It was a large, lilac, shimmering, toilet. This was a bathroom.

He kneeled by one of the taps, with a small spiral shaped button on it. He pressed down, and to his delight a stream of rainbow bubbles showered out, all in a million shapes and sizes. He went about pushing and experimenting for about fifteen minutes and eventually he had filled the whole tub. Then, in a sudden moment of decision, he decided to try it out. Sliding out of his lovely new robes, he found a small slide and dove down headfirst. The pool was obviously deep enough; it seemed maybe fifteen feet.

 He spent the next half-hour diving in and out of the bubbles, and generally enjoying himself. He found a large collection of bottles labeled things like, 'test 1, luscious lilac,' or 'try 3 sensuous Asian spice.' He at last picked out a bottle that read, 'FINAL- French vanilla fantasy,' and spent a long time washing the hair he had previously admiring. When he decided he was thoroughly clean, he climbed up a small golden ladder and found a large closet full of fluffy multi-colored dressing gowns, a male set and a female set. All of the men-sized robes had a small breast pocket with another fancy L embroidered just above it. He slid into a particularly fluffy yellow dressing gown, and set off to find another interesting room. 

And so he moved from chamber to chamber. Stopping to admire each to its fullest splendor. In the kitchen there were shelves of fascinating cookbooks and a rack full of different colored chef hats. In the study there was a huge trophy case devoted to an enormous collection of magical typewriters, and enchanted quills. Possibly the most interesting part of the exhibit was a small glass case which housed two worn looking quills. One had a plaque next to it that read, "My First Quill." The other, slightly more battered quill's plaque read, "My First Sugar Quill." Smiling, and tracing his finger along the glass of the case, he moved on the next room, a gymnasium. After that there was a billiards room, two spare bedrooms, another bath, and so many more. Finally after hours of aimless wandering, he returned to that first front parlor. 

He glanced around at the lavish setting and smiled. Then he walked back to the front door, with a certain purpose in his stride. Pushing it open he grinned down where Alumina was sitting, reading a small book of poetry. Obviously startled by the noise, she gave a little jump and looked up into his eyes. 

"Alumina?" he said looking at her with a dead serious expression in his eyes. Alumina simply cocked her head to the side and waited. He spoke again, emotion and purpose in his voice.

"My name is Gilderoy Lockhart, and I am home."  

~*~

Ever since the Chamber of Secrets incident at Hogwarts, Gilderoy Lockhart had been shuttled from memory loss ward to memory loss ward. Over the past two years he had been in nineteen different magi-hospitals around the world, and he was finally getting his own life back. The nurses had told him about his history, who he was, who his parents were, his accomplishments, but even after two years of intensive therapy he still lacked many memories. He did know one thing though, it took over a year of trying but he had succeeded in burning one vivid event into his brain. And that was who had done this to him.

"Get up" Ron said sharply, point his wand at Lockhart. Lockhart got to his feet- then dived at Ron, knocking him to the ground. Harry jumped forward, but too late- Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Ron's wand in his hand and a gleaming smile on his face. 

_"The adventure ends here boys! I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body- say good bye to you memories!" He raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, _

"Obliviate!" The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb, and all was dark for Gilderoy Lockhart.  

He _had_ prided himself on his memory charms, and this had been a particularly strong one. Gilderoy felt his temper beginning to flare, stupid Weasley, it had been _his_ wand, his _broken _wand that had done this. Looking down, Gilderoy noticed his fists had balled up, and he quickly told himself to calm down. Now breathing deeply, he tried to relax and remember that his life had started anew and that was all behind him. The past could be forgotten, and the future lie stretched ahead of him.  

He sighed, and sat down on the grassy hilltop, glancing back at his house. _His_ house, the one he had owned before that Weasley had done this to him. He liked Gilderoy Hall; it was made of a pale pink stone and was large and lovely. It even housed his personal potions laboratory, so that he could achieve his long forgotten dream of his own line of hair care potions. Even if it was a dream of his past self, it gave him something to do. 

Lockhart had also been reading his books, all of which mentioned his own personal quirks, favorites, and aspirations. When he tried these things, or thought about it, he realized that most his favorites and wishes remained true today. So, not much had changed. 

Looked up at the sky, he saw it was painted with vibrant pinks, oranges, blues, and purples. It would be nightfall soon, and then the bugs would come out. Lockhart shuddered, he disliked insects, and there was something so annoying about them. He was already beginning to swat several beetles and moths out of his face, so sighing once again, he gazed once more at the glorious sky and headed back to the house, perhaps to indulge in a nice hot bath. 

A moth landed on his shoulder, and the beetle buzzed his nose again. Smacking at both of them, he ran for cover, sky and all musings forgotten. 

~*~

Inside, his live-in nurse, Alumina, greeted him. Alumina Jennings was a shy twenty-something girl with mousy brown hair, and sweet chocolate colored eyes. She loved sitting in the study, or out on the balcony, just reading poetry or a romance novel. She was rather quiet girl, except for when she was cooking. Alumina was a fantastic chef and she, just as her dishes come alive with flavor in the kitchen.

Lockhart found that he often couldn't resist going into the kitchen before meal times and helping her. Once cooking, her shy persona melted away, and she would bark orders as in a harsher tone than any drill sergeant. When they were eating, the meal was always filled with laughter and fun. Of course afterwards, Alumina would always retire with a book or write a letter to her mother. Shyness cloaking her once again. 

After dinner, when Alumina returned to her cloister, Gilderoy would either listen to music, go down to the local pub, or work on his latest book.  The book was a fantasy about a tormented, yet handsome author who loses his memory and fights to regain it so he can save the world from and evil wizard, it was called, "Charm Me A Memory." 

That particular night, Alumina greeted him with a strict look, and a small vial. 

"Drink up, you're late and this potion won't work if you aren't consistent in taking it." Gilderoy opened his mouth to say that the potion would cause his _charming_ smile change to a _horribly_ disfigured into a grimace if he took it, but Alumina silenced him with a look.  

"And if you go on about that most charming smile nonsense _one more time_ I will personally shove this vial, cork and all, down you smarmy throat." Lockhart quailed and held out his hand. In return the vial was smacked down into his open palm and Alumina stormed away. Lockhart could smell something burning in the kitchen. Wincing as he heard something sizzling being poured into the sink, obviously ruined. He frowned and swallowed the contents of the vial. It tasted of old socks and tar. 

Gagging, he threw on a green cloak- to match his robes of course. Finding a hat, he perched it at a jaunty angle atop his golden head, and with a soft whisk of robes, he was out to "Moll's Smiling Bogart," the village pub. 

It was said that 'Old Moll' the owner of the pub was so mean hearted and horrible that her Bogart would be a smile.  Thus the pub, originally 'Moll's Squalling Witch,' was renamed. The pub was a small, dark building, with large splintery wooden rafters and poles. Moll had a vast variety of strange and exotic drinks, although to get at them, one would have to sit on the ancient, nearly crumbling barstools. Overall, the place had a relaxed atmosphere, and Gilderoy could feel right at home.

When he entered the pub, he was greeted by its usual patrons. A few elderly warlocks and some middle-aged witches made up most of the usuals. There was a smattering of teenagers who showed up often enough, and the boys liked to flirt with Moll in hopes of free butterbeer. But tonight there was a table filled with people Lockhart had never seen.

A large batch of stunningly attractive people were sitting around a large table. All of the beautiful people wore robes of scarlet and gold with a prim 'SQ' embroidered at the top. Lockhart's jaw dropped, these people seemed more beautiful than veelas! He winked at the group and wandered over to the bar. Lockhart slid into a seat by Leonard Stout, gossipy man, who knew everything that happened in the town (or at least the bar). 

"Hello Leo, do you by chance know who those people are over there?" He asked, flashing a charming smile in the table's direction. Leonard leaned in close, and in a raspy voice he began to reply.

"They call themselves 'Sugar Quillers,' to keep up the pretense that they're working for Honeydukes. But really," He leaned in close enough from Lockhart to count the individual hairs on his mole. 

"They're some group of radicals who target people and follow them around. While they're following they squeal a lot, and write things on little notepads. They say once they target you, that they'll never leave. I knew a fellow who used to come around here, Remus Lupin, and he was targeted. It was-" He sucked in a breath, "horrible. Don't let their looks fool you son, you'll never get a second, or a thought to yourself once they invade." 

Lockhart raised an eyebrow, but said nothing back to the old man. Obviously, he was off his rocker. Then, he proceeded to order a few rounds of fire whiskey, and forget his troubles, at least for the moment.  

~*~

Later that night, or very early the next morning, Lockhart found himself stumbling along the country road back to Gilderoy Hall. His vision was blurred with alcohol, and his cheeks and nose were painted a rosy red. After hiccuping a few times and running into a tree, Gilderoy finally saw his manor rising over the hilltop to greet him. He gave a small wobbly smile at the structure, and continued to lurch his way up the hill. All was going fine, until he had the misfortune to run into something new, and this was certainly not a tree. 

A man in dark robes was knocked to the ground before him. A large hood disguised the man's face, but in his hand he held a long piece of parchment. Lockhart smiled cheerfully at the man and swayed a bit. The mysterious stranger however, gave a frightened yelp, picked himself up, and sprinted into the trees. Gilderoy shouted a cordial farewell to the retreating man, and continued on his merry drunken way. Obviously unaware of the plot unfolding before his bleary eyes. 

~*~

Late that morning, Gilderoy Lockhart awoke with a massive headache, and Alumina's stern face glaring at him. Wordlessly, she shoved a potion vial into his hand and stalked out of the room. Lockhart had fuzzy memories of raunchy yelling upon his arrival home, but nothing would be completely lucid until he had taken a few gulps on Alumina's marvelous hangover tonic and had a nice hot bath. 

Fifteen minutes later, Gilderoy was happily swimming around the tub. Gilderoy liked taking baths. He would pretend he was a fish, splash to and fro amidst the bubbles, and have long chats with his rubber ducky. Not only that, but he could test his hair care products personally, well, once they were lab approved anyway. 

Today's product was a sensational shampoo that would revolutionize hair shine. Lockhart could picture it now! The bottle would read "Guaranteed to make the dullest hair shine like a Mooncalf!" Well, even if that wasn't the best gimmick, as far as Gilderoy could see, the product was working. Then again, his hair was so naturally shiny, it put the _shine_ in _sheen_. Of course, Gilderoy realized that the word 'shine' was nowhere in the word 'sheen,' but he was a beautiful man, not a smart one. 

After a long lathery test run, Lockhart stepped out of the tub and went to find a lovely robe. Humming a catchy tune he had heard on the WWN the other day, Lockhart danced around the bathroom a few times before stopping at a large self-portrait. Underneath the large grinning self-image, was a tiny plaque that read "_Vanity is merely the art of self-perfection_." He bent down, until his could see her perfect nose before the plaque and utter his password.

"Silky locks."

The portrait swung backward revealing a large white potions laboratory. At the very same time, Lockhart's mouth swung open in a shocked scream, revealing his lovely tonsils. 

A/N I'm very busy currently, so it might be a while before we get a new chapter, but it will come eventually J - Emeraldd Star


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